


Otherworldly Violins

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man suffers through the anniversary of the death of a woman he should never have loved and finds a reminder of something he should have never forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Otherworldly Violins

**Author's Note:**

> In an attempt to reconnect with the reasons I wanted to become a writer I began looking to my past sojourns in fandom. While digging through hard copies and discs of old material I came across this short story. It was originally written for the IWTB Halloween challenge back in October 2002 over ten years ago under my original writing name Foxhunt2blue. It was raw and amateurish to say the least, but I dusted it off and reedited it with the thought all writers have to start somewhere.
> 
> This particular story does not recognize the second X-Files movie. I guess in that sense it would be considered AU. 
> 
> The title and inspiration for this tale was Don Henley's song "Miss Ghost" from the "Inside Job" CD. If you’re unfamiliar with the song, you can check it out on You Tube at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJFTmg2Tn5Q

 

New Orleans, Louisiana

October 31st

 

 

Slate gray clouds swelled along the eastern horizon as if living, breathing creatures. The occasional crack of thunder echoed behind each flash of lightning as the man struggled along the sidewalk to the one place he couldn't seem to escape…The past.

 

Fighting the pressure of the wind, he stumbled up the sidewalk slick with rain to the wide porch. A drunken curse exploded from him as he lost his footing at the base of the stairs, hitting the stone walk. Beneath the soaked denim he felt the skin split along his kneecap. It always seemed to rain every year on this date.

 

Using his crutch, he managed to get back on his feet and up the stairs without further incident. A thought occurred to him as he fumbled for the front door key. His mother, when he was little, would tell him the storms he was so afraid of were only the angels of heaven grieving for humanity’s sins. The wind their tear soaked voices, howling in grief. The rain was their tears and the thunder God's voice as he tried to comfort them. That seemed fitting considering what tonight was. They were either grieving over his sins or perhaps over the loss of her soul to this world.

 

Stumbling through the door into the hall, he snorted in disgust at his circumstances. He had no one to blame, but himself, that's why he had been at the bar tonight…Washing away his sins. He stripped off his soaked coat the sound of a moan drifting down the narrow staircase that led to the second floor reaching his ears. Turning, his eyes focused on the shadowed landing and for a single moment, he could have sworn there was movement. Not only that, but he swore a hint of jasmine drifted on the cold air. This was why he never came back to the house until dawn normally.

 

"Just the wind." he mumbled as he moved into what had once been the living room.

 

Once it had been a room filled with love and light, now it was his self-made shrine of hopelessness. A lone chair, high-backed, dressed in dark blue velvet worn smooth along the wide arms with age sat in front of the fireplace. Once it had been her favorite chair, the same shade blue as her eyes were when they had been in the throes of passion. Arms and legs tangled, glistening with perspiration, scent of her perfume heavy in the warm Southern air.

 

A choked sob escaped his parted lips as he leaned on his crutch, crippled leg useless as he made his way across the dusty floor. When he was next to the chair, he collapsed into its familiar comfort. On the table next to the chair a bottle of whisky sat, golden brown liquid catching the faint light from the embers in the fireplace, sending sparks dancing across the bare walls.

 

Reaching for the bottle, he poured himself a glass, and then opened the humidor next to the bottle removing a cigar and lighter. She would have had his ass in a sling if she could see him now. Everything he had despised about his own father he had become, an alcoholic, lungs heavy with tar. She couldn't see him though—not now...not ever.

 

Flicking the lighter he lifted it to the tip of the cigar, blue flame wavering as if a breeze swirled through the room. Inhaling he let it shut with a clack, lungs aching with more than the cold and smoke. His mind began to wander as he lifted the glass to his lips the scotch burning his cracked, chapped lips. So many promises made and so many broken in the course of a life. That was when he heard it again.

 

Faint almost melodic. A moaning edged with tears and followed by a sigh of regret.

 

The glass shattered as it hit the floor, his eyes widening as he fought to catch a breath. It was the wind, there was no other explanation...was there?

 

Pulling himself from the chair, he flicked the cigar into the ash-filled hearth. Supported only by his crutch he reached for the poker, stirring the ashes until the faint glow began to swell. He worked at getting the fire built up as a shiver moved along his spine, finger of ice against his damp skin.

 

Another moan rose, dancing down the stairs sending him sprawling to the floor in a drunken haze. Anything but this, anything except her.

 

His thoughts drifted back to that Halloween night three years before when his life had been different. There had been hope in her eyes, hope for a future together. After all they had been through, after all that loses they had shared, he managed to convince her they could build a life together that they could escape a fate too horrifying to consider. Then they had come back.

 

After months of silence, of peace, they had been waiting on a lonely stretch of highway in the dead of night. There was little he could remember about that moment…No, that wasn't true. There was little, he allowed himself to remember. Now though as he sat sprawled on the floor, tears welling over his lashes, down his face rough with a weeks’ worth of beard he finally allowed himself to remember. There had been shattering glass, the shriek of rubber on wet black top and then he’d woke up, blood in his eyes blinding him.

 

She hadn't been wearing her seat belt.

 

He remembered how he had watched the life fade away in those her eyes. Her body half way through the windshield, hair matted with blood, and slivers of glass winking like stars across the crushed hood of the car.

 

Lifting his eyes, he struggled to his feet, knowing he had to climb those stairs, soft thump of his crutch his only company as he worked his way up into the darkness. His wet shoes slid across the floor as he stumbled down the hall, heart pounding, and breath tight in his throat.

 

Three years…Not once in three years had he been back to this place.

 

Jasmine tickled his nose as he reached out with trembling fingers to the doorknob. The door swung open with a creak into what had once been their bedroom. He had expected dust, darkness and the stray cobweb, but that wasn’t what he found. It was as if time had frozen.

 

She lay stretched out on the bed, skin marble pale in the candlelight, lips moist red...blood red. The dark blue silk of the chemise she wore flowed along the length of her torso, stopping mid-thigh.

 

He hadn't expected this.

 

She sighed, rolling onto her back, stretching her arms above her. The peaks of her breasts tantalizing beneath the silk, hem riding enough to reveal a flash of auburn curls. Trembling he stepped closer eyes dilating with passion as she rolled onto her stomach, the curve of a milky buttock causing him to groan. One tiny hand lifted, finger crooking, and beckoning him to join her.

 

God he missed her.

 

Anger surged, bitter in the back of his throat, as he struggled not into her ghostly arms, but to the window. Throwing open the latch, the storm beyond tore the glass from his shaking hands as he howled his rage to the rain. He cursed the weakness she was to him, the self-inflicted pain her loss had brought.

 

Her voice was a melodic symphony of otherworldly violins as she called his name, the wind tearing at the drapes

 

"No!" he cried.

 

Picking up, the wind screamed through the room, candles spluttering and dying, leaving the room drowned in darkness. Their love had been ill fated from the beginning, it had never been right.

 

Turning back to the dark room, he smiled at the pale spirit who still awaited him. He let his fingers slip along her jaw, down the pale length of her neck as he lowered himself to the bed. One finger slid the delicate strap of silk down her shoulder. His lips lowered to the pale cold flesh, scent of her perfume filling his nose as he tasted her skin.

 

"I won't go with you," he whispered against her shoulder.

 

A soft sigh tickled his ear as he lifted his head to meet her sparkling eyes…Azure crystal.

 

"It was nice of you to...to come...to let me know."

 

She smiled then, her hand lifting to caress his cheek. With a sigh, she leaned forward her lips catching his in a passionate kiss, his fingers tangling in the mass of her auburn hair, swirling around pale shoulders. Pulling back he smiled, tears falling down his cheeks once more, as she began to fade away.

 

As the storm ended, he collapsed to the bed sobbing, wondering if he had made the right choice. Finally, sleep overcame him as the first light of dawn backlit the retreating storm clouds.

 

 

St. John's Cemetery

Somewhere North of New Orleans

November 1st

 

He had never been here. Not even for her funeral. A part of him realized now why he’d avoided this place for so long as he wandered between tombs and markers. The caretaker had nodded when he had asked where her resting place was…A gnarled little Cajun man who had probably seen his share of people over the years dealing with grief.

 

He knew what he had to do. There was a little boy somewhere out there who needed him and he was ashamed he had forgotten. He’d promised her long ago and now he’d let go of grief he could make good at least this one.

 

Third willow tree from the west fence, the caretaker had said. He recognized it the moment he saw it. The artist had captured his instructions to the tee. A single marble pedestal on which an angel knelt, urn lifted heavenward. The inscription was simple.

 

Dana Katherine Scully

February 23, 1964-October 31, 2004

"The Truth is Found Within"

 

A gentle smile softened his expression as he traced the angel's marble face. She would have appreciated the message, he thought, as he laid the bouquet of jasmine and lilacs at the base of the pedestal.

 

"I hope you found heaven, Dana." He whispered struggling to his feet and turning away.

 

He didn't see the misty form as she reached down to pluck a jasmine blossom from the bouquet. Her lips parted in a wide smile as she turned to the man who waited beneath the boughs of the willow.

 

"I did...”

 

With a final glance at Walter Skinner's retreating form, she took Mulder's hand and faded away.

 

~Finis~

**Author's Note:**

> "Miss Ghost" (Lyrics)  
> Written by Don Henley/Stan Lynch/Jai Winding
> 
> On a misbegotten, moonless night  
> I stumbled in my door  
> Disgusted with my circumstance  
> Soaked to every pore  
> When floating from my bedroom  
> Came a moaning and a sigh  
> "Oh, I've had one too many  
> It's just the wind," says I
> 
> I lit up a cigarette  
> And I poured a good, stiff drink  
> You see, I needed to compose myself  
> I needed time to think  
> No sooner had I settled down   
> The moaning came again  
> Drifting through the silence  
> Like some otherworldly violin
> 
> I bounded up the staircase  
> I went slippin' and slidin' down  
> the hall  
> You know, I've been around the   
> whole, wide world  
> But I was not prepared at all  
> Uninvited visitor, unsuspecting host  
> Well, I see you've made yourself  
> at home  
> "Good Evening, Miss Ghost"
> 
> You're more beautiful than ever  
> I feel just like a kid  
> And I commence to trembling  
> When I think of all the things we did  
> Skin as pale as marble, lips as red  
> as blood  
> Imagine my surprise, my dear  
> I thought you were gone for good
> 
> You look so lovely lying there  
> All stretched out on your back  
> But I'm the one who's strung up here  
> On old temptation's rusty rack  
> And in the wee, small hours  
> Is when I miss you the most  
> And I confess it, I have missed you  
> Miss Ghost
> 
> I threw open the window  
> And I howled at the rain  
> And I cursed the weakness of the flesh  
> This breath and bone-and this   
> brute reptilian brain
> 
> What dirty tricks the mind can play  
> In the lonely dead of night  
> When you bump into the shadow  
> Of a fade love that wasn't right  
> Way down beneath the surface  
> Far beyond the light of day  
> So many things lie buried deep  
> And baby, they should stay that way
> 
> Oh, my wicked, little habit  
>  We've really made a mess  
> Everything's been trivialized  
> In our vain pursuit of happiness  
> And even though you've come  
> for me  
> I won't go back to you  
> To some temporary heaven  
> Down some empty, dead-  
> end avenue
> 
> But it's been so good to have  
> you here  
> And I propose a toast  
> "Here's to seeing through you--  
> Miss Ghost."


End file.
